He jerks out of my hold. “Fuck you. What happened to all that talk about brothers watching out for one another?”
“Ilya,” I warn, “don’t let this come between us.”
He sneers. “Too late.”
“Yan,” Anton says urgently but softly, walking fast toward me. He tilts his head in the direction of the door.
I spin around just in time to see Mina disappear through the frame.
16
Mina
With my nose pinched shut, I run through the lobby toward the bathroom, slam a palm on the door, and rush to the vanity. When I let go, blood splatters on the white marble of the basin.
No.
Fuck.
I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and, tilting back my head, press it under my nose until the trickling stops.
Bracing my hands on the countertop, I look at my face in the mirror.
Not this.
On the outside, I’m like a granite statue. Inside, I’m shaking.
The bruises scared me this morning, but I hoped. I hoped they were remnants of our rough sex. Shock and disappointment fill my chest until my heart drowns in despondency. All I want to do is scream, but I slam a fist on the counter instead. The blow hurts, the pain sharp and sobering as shame overcomes me.
Don’t be pathetic, Mina. Pull yourself together.
I don’t know anything. Not yet.
Sniffing, I stare at the mess that’s my face. This won’t do. This won’t do at all. Straightening my spine, I wet a paper towel and clean the blood off my skin. I’ve barely dumped the bloodstained towel in the trash when a loud tap sounds on the door.
“Mina!”
Yan.
“In here,” I call out. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
The door bangs against the wall. My keeper storms through it, his green eyes like wild, poisonous ivy.
“What are you doing?” He looks around the empty bathroom as if he expects to see someone else—or as if he thought he’d catch me climbing through a window.
Can’t blame him. I’ve done it once, and I would’ve done it again if he hadn’t tagged me like a dog.
“Jeez.” I turn and lean on the vanity, all cool, casual mockery. “Can’t a girl pee in peace?”
He regards me closely, searching for the lie. “You’re not any girl.”
No, I’m not. I give a wry laugh. “So what? Do I have to ask permission to use the bathroom?”
His answer is curt. “Yes.”
“Fuck, Yan.” My turmoil spills into anger. “I think we’ve established I don’t have a fucking chance at escaping. You can cut me some slack.”
His beautiful eyes harden. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?”
“Want to lose more freedom? I have no problem keeping you locked up in my flat.”
I shut my mouth. The very point of helping him with this job is gaining freedom. I need that now more than ever.
He smiles coldly. “Glad you understand.”
My body sags, the fight leaving me abruptly. All I feel now is tired, and it scares the hell out of me.
Closing the distance, Yan puts his hands on my shoulders. “It wasn’t what it looked like back there.”
The unwelcome image of him in bed with Ilya and the brunette slips into my mind. Like earlier in the bar, the idea constricts my chest. I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it does. It hurts like the continuous prick of a tattoo needle.
I stare up at his face, taking in the hard lines of his handsome features. He doesn’t belong to me, I know that. Or I should. “What you do is none of my business.”
“I’m not going to have sex with someone else while I’m fucking you bareback.”
My snort is as crude as his words. “That’s most considerate. Thanks for not giving me STDs.”
He catches my head between his broad palms. “Drop the sarcasm. It’s not about diseases. Using a condom with someone else will solve that risk easily enough.”
The someone else cuts into my heart. “Then why bother to abstain? Go ahead. Fuck her.”
His hand fists in my hair. “You don’t tell me what to do. In case you’re slow in figuring it out, it’s the other way around.”
“Oh, I’ve figured it out.”
His jaw flexes. “Then what’s your problem?”
“I don’t get it,” I say honestly. “I don’t understand you.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“If it’s not about diseases, then what’s it about?”
“Principle.”
I laugh. “Are you telling me you actually have some?”
His gaze turns sharp, the green of his irises cooling further. “Careful, princess. You’re skating on thin ice.”
He’s right. I’m risking his anger and for what? A warped sense of jealousy? I still. Fuck. I cannot be jealous. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this situation, this very wrong situation. Yet a little voice deep inside says I keep on telling him “yes” every time he asks me if I want sex.
“While we’re on the topic”—he releases my hair and drags his fingers over my scalp, as if soothing the sting he’s inflicted—“it works both ways. You don’t sleep with someone else. You don’t even look at another man.”
I blink up at him. “Like who?”
“Ilya.”
Ah, twin rivalry. Is that what this is about? “You were happy enough to share before.”
His eyes darken. “You’re different.”
“How?”
“No one has ever belonged to me.”
It’s not a compliment, nor a sweet declaration of feelings. It’s a warning, a reminder of who we are, of what I am to him. An object. A toy. A convenient fuck to keep his bed warm. An enemy to lock up while he lives his life freely.
Someone to kill once he’s done with me.
I push the knowledge away because I can’t look at it too closely. It hurts too much.
He tilts back my head, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Do you understand?”
“I’m not stupid,” I say softly.
His gaze skims over my lips. “Stupid is the last thing I’d take you for.”
“Then you didn’t have to barge in here chasing me. You know I won’t run.”
“Just making sure you get how this works.” His words are full of a dark promise.
“You’ve been crystal
